


Light in the Shadows

by KHB123



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Broken Families, Dark Magic, Death, Developing Friendships, Drama, Dysfunctional Relationships, Eventual Romance, Family, Fantasy, Father-Daughter Relationship, Horror, Human Sacrifice, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Mentors, Multi, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Plot Twists, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Revenge, Supernatural Elements, Thriller, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHB123/pseuds/KHB123
Summary: Shadow of Mordor: Elanor, daughter of Talion, longs for freedom from the Black Gate, but when her family is killed, she and her father are all that remain, along with the wraith, Celebrimbor, whom she seems to see other than Talion. Little does she know that her father is already dead. Talion wants revenge for his wife and son, but wants to protect his daughter at all costs.





	1. Opening

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Shadow of Mordor fanfic. I've watched the Gameplay on YouTube and really enjoyed it, even though it was sad. There was barely any Shadow of Mordor fanfics to enjoy, so I decided to write one as a LOTR fanfic.  
> I may be a little slow with this story because I have slowly follow along with the plot, but this is for fun. This is a canon within a canon. I only own my OC character. I wanted to explore that Talion had more than one child, a young daughter named Elanor, who might later play a part in LOTR. Like what if she was the only real survivor of the Black Gate (Talion doesn't count because he was just about to die if not for Celebrimbor), and what if her blood connection to Talion plays an important part in this adventure?  
> This is rated M for graphic violence and possible sexual content (mostly from flashbacks)  
> This is just the opening from the game for now. The story takes place in the year T.A. 3001, because the that's around the time the shadows of Mordor began to spread, Saruman joined Sauron, and Bilbo celebrated his 111th birthday. It's in the Appendixes B, so it makes sense that Shadow of Mordor took place at this time.  
> Or it could be earlier…but this is just a theory.

_In the land of Mordor, where the Shadows lie..._   
_It was here, on the slopes of Mount Doom, that the Dark Lord Sauron was defeated by a last alliance of Men and Elves._   
_It is here that for two thousand years, the Rangers of Gondor stood watch, guarding against a nameless threat they had all but forgotten. And while the strength of Gondor faded, the power and malice of Sauron grew in darkness._   
_He has returned to Mordor._   
_Shadow and flame have fallen on the Black Gate and no mortal man can stand in its path. None had survived._   
_Except one._   
_One of the least likely to have walked in the presence of evil and to have escaped. One, a child of the Dunedain, whose heart beat like a warm flame in the cold darkness. A star in the everlasting night...for when all hope was bleak to those who wander, tainted by the horrors of the Dark Lord's servants, her spirit would shine ever brighter._   
_For she was the first in her time to have witnessed seemingly impossible deeds...just as she may well be the last._   
_The daughter of a Ranger Captain, who's fate is yet to be known, she is the messenger of what will come._   
_May her spirit never break and her hope never fade._


	2. Awakening (Pt.1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing the timeline off the movie for the War of the Rings. Instead of 3018, I'm making 3005, because I don't think twenty years have passed since Bilbo left the Shire and Frodo went on his quest. Frodo just looks the same age as last time and Gandalf made that trip to Minas Tirith right away to read the scrolls.  
> So that would mean the War of the Rings (in this fanfic, at least) took place four or five years later from Shadow of Mordor.

(Elanor)

I remember falling.  
Sliding, tumbling, and speeding through the dark channel, unable to stop, even as my fingers clawed at the sandy stone forming narrow walls around me. My throat was dry, hoarse from my seemingly endless screams. Screams for my brother, who was the last face I remembered seeing before darkness swallowed me. I was sliding...blinded...fear my strongest companion...  
He had shoved me...why...  
My eyelids were heavy, glued shut from unconsciousness that seemed to last an eternity. With painful effort, they managed to flicker, cracking slightly open. A faint light seeped through my lashes. By the smell of the air, thick with fumes of fire and smoke and...something of decay...it was already clear that I was outside of the chute, but the air as I remembered it---the beautiful, clean winds of the outside world I savored from day and night----was gone. Overcome with soreness, I couldn't move my body, feeling heavy as the wall I lived in. My head felt even heavier, as though weighed down by mounds of stone being pounded by dwarfish hammers at the base of my skull.  
Eru, it hurt. Did I break something? I couldn't think...or distinguish any other feeling in my body.  
Was I dead? Obviously not, since I still hurt. You are not supposed to feel pain in death. Right?  
A faint groan escaped my parted lips, which were coated and cracked with dust. My parched mouth tasted acidic and coppery.  
Right...I must have hit my head when having landed...  
...hard...  
...on the gravel...  
....Ow...  
I remember feeling horror.  
Seeing a nightmare unfold before my eyes...my head pounded furiously, threatening to pull me back into the dreamless void.  
There was no telling how long I was out...had it been raining? It stopped. The air that was full of fumes that floated with heavy vapor, thick as a fog.  
I felt like crying. My throat burned when choked up. Wetness escaped the corners of my eyes, stinging with heat from the pain and fear that devoured me within the weight of my haze.  
_Mother...Father…help me….everywhere...hurts...want...to…sleep..._  
 _Forgive me. I love you, little sister._  
 _Dirhael..._  
I knew no more. Only darkness.

* * *

(Talion)

He woke with a rush of icy cold filling his entire being, burning deeper than the coldest winters into the very marrow of his bones. The shock sent him to his feet, but his legs easily gave away from sudden pain. Shadows and immaterial shapes surrounded his worldview, crossing and vibrating through the darkness like wild turrets in a river. They bellowed through his ears and into his brain so loudly it made him dizzier, threatening to drown him in all its chaotic phantoms.  
What happened? Was this death?  
Fear spiked through his core. He remembered. He remembered...who and what he was…..what had happened. He remembered….dying. There had been three wicked, inhuman figures, their clawed hands trapping his arms in vice-like grips that could bend metal…..he remembered feeling the hot blaze of the blade slowly slicing his throat, his watery vision becoming peppery with black dots as the blood began to pour. Then everything grew cold. So cold. He remembered feeling pain. More pain than he had ever felt in his life….and that had been _before_ his throat had been cut.  
Then he remembered….his fear was not for his own wellbeing. Only for the few people who made up his heart. His whole world.  
_My name is Talion._  
 _I am a Ranger of Gondor._  
 _A Captain of the Black Gate._  
 _Husband of...Father of..._  
"Ioreth!" he cried out for his beloved wife, his voice coming out hoarse and raspy. It strained his lungs to speak; his hand coming up to brush the base of his throat that had not been whole before. Swallowing and gasping with anxiety, unable to stand, he found himself crawling in desperation.  
"Dirhael!" he screamed for his son. His proud, courageous son...  
_This is a nightmare. It has to be. Oh, gods, please...please, no...not them...not them...I cannot live without them…Am I even alive? Are they?_  
He looked around wildly, the ghostly shapes of this strange void making him sway from their plundering illusions, their distorted shapes lashing out in shattered whirlwinds. The shadows were as bleak as whatever courage he clung onto...but it was failing.  
"Elanor?" he whispered for his precious daughter. His voice became small.  
His wife. His son. His daughter. Where were they? If he was in the place where they should be, then why have they not come forward yet? He did not understand. If he didn't find them soon, he feared that he would go mad. He needed them. All of them.  
It was not long before the shadows began to part once he maintained balance and sharpened his vision.  
Through the void, he spotted a motionless form lying on the ground, ten feet away. Perhaps it was the cold essence flooding his being in raging turrets, but he felt himself go numb as he stared at the body. Finally managing to stand, wobbling on weakened knees that were on the verge of giving away, he found himself slowly moving forward, fearing of what he may find. His feet were heavy as they dragged across the ground. He couldn't breathe.  
Blood pooled around the body, already dried like a dark, inky stain over the rugged stone, bled out from the long deep gash across the body's chest. Mouth parted and glassy hazel eyes half-opened beneath the tangle of dark hair strands...  
Dirhael.  
Talion fell to his knees. All the air left his lungs with a whoosh, as though he had been impaled through the chest. His eyes were wide, misting up with tears that threatened to break in the midst of his shock as he stared at the bloodied body of his firstborn.  
Silent, his breath shuddering from this horror before his eyes, he lifted a trembling hand. It felt heavy while hovering over the body of his son. When his hand finally rested on the boy's head, his long tousled hair still soaked from the rain and stiffened from his own blood, the touch of stillness became too much. Too real. A soft, strangled sob escaped Talion’s mouth.  
His fingers ran gently through Dirhael's hair, hoping beyond hope that his love would be strong enough to bring life back into his child, or at least have him wake up so that he would greet his father. Talion felt his jaw tremble and shut his eyes, shuddering as he struggled with all his might not to shatter. When he opened them again, his son was still dead. His precious son...one of his reasons for life...gone, before his very eyes...  
With another gasping sob, the Ranger closed the lad's eyes and kept caressing his face. "Oh, my son," Talion choked, a hot tear escaping his eye as he ran his hand across Dirhael's cold face, the outline of his jaw still hinting a growth of hair. He brushed the hair strands away, just as he had always done when Dirhael was a child….or when he needed comfort. "My brave, brave boy," he whispered with a tremor. "My young warrior. Forgive me. I have failed you, my boy. I failed you..."  
With his eyes now closed, Dirhael looked like he was sleeping. The peace on his features, despite its gruesome end, made him look younger. Like a child. Talion's child, with no cares in the world and all the love that he could ever receive. Longing desperately to hold that precious child of his again in his arms, Talion found himself lying over the body of his son, his arms wrapping protectively around the shell that once held a life that had yet to begin, and buried his face in Dirhael's tousled hair, letting himself get lost in his tears.  
For a long time he lay like that, whispering to his son as though he were heard, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you, Dirhael. I am so proud of you. So proud... _Please_ come back to me. Please...please...oh, my boy...my boy..."  
When there was no such luck, when time seemed to pass slowly, Talion had grown silent as he kept hold of his son a moment longer. He felt so lost that no words could describe the pain he felt delve deeply into his soul...but he had to get up. Dirhael would be put to rest, but he had to find his wife and daughter.  
Finally, Talion moved his head and pressed a kiss in his firstborn's hair, breathing into his scent one more time. _I will come back. I will not be long. I love you, son._  
Reluctant to leave his son, Talion forced himself to get up. The Ranger managed to sit up in a kneeling position, taking a deep breath. Looking down, he was surprised to find Dirhael's sword lying there at his knees, having been left unnoticed until now. The blueish-gray blade that had once been longer than the average man's arm was split in half, the edge narrowed into a sharper tilt.  
Grieved to see his son's first and only weapon in such a state, Talion found himself picking up the damaged sword in both hands, staring at the steel's unusual color, remembering a time when the blade had not seemed sharp enough...but his son had been too proud and determined to care...

 _Talion examined the long sword in both his hands, his fingers tracing the blade, which had a tint of blue in its silver. He could sense Dirhael waiting eagerly in the background, already wearing the holster for his sword. Though now a young man of twenty, his son still had that boyish spark in him. One that he hoped would never go out. Talion smirked in amusement._  
 _"It is a perfect swing," he announced, tossing the sword back to his son, "for killing chickens."_  
 _Dirhael scoffed, his eyes glittering mischievously. "Wouldn't want to hurt you." They clashed their swords, instantly beginning their practice._  
 _Talion smiled at the youth. "It'll take a lot more than that," he said._  
 _Dirahel took a light swing at him, but his father easily stepped aside and hind-kicked him, causing the young man to stumble in surprise. Talion let out a booming laugh. "Dirhael, the mighty chicken killer! Come on." He beckoned at the lad, readying his own sword. "Come on. Show your father what you have."_  
 _"Make sure you don't cry when I best you," teased Dirhael, letting his sword hover with a mock threat._  
 _Talion tilted his head. "Humor me."_  
 _Dirhael grunted and swung his sword, which Talion blocked easily. "You'll have to hit harder if you want to best your father."_  
 _The young man swung again, the blade ringing loudly from the clash. "Hard enough?"_  
 _As they continued clashing swords, Talion tutored his son as he continued pushing the youth back. "Parry, son. Don't forget to block."_  
 _"Perhaps you should not forget to hit!" his son shot back, frustration seeping his tone._  
 _"Stay alert, Dirhael. Your enemy will not always be as he appears."_  
 _As they fought, Talion easily blocking his son's moves, Dirhael was tiring, but had become more aggressive. His playful efforts became more edged, his smile twisted into a frown, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. For a moment, it seemed like the young Dunedain forgot whom he was fighting. With a growl, the young man swung again, but Talion blocked it with a narrow arc. He was no longer smiling. "Easy, son," he murmured. "You're not a soldier yet."_  
 _Dirhael's aggressive look faded, recognition returning in his eyes. Lips pressed, his son stepped back and lowered his sword, looking away. "I will be, though," he mumbled. "I'll get better."_  
 _"Dirhael, look at me," Talion said softly. When Dirhael looked up, depression in his gaze, the worried father continued with a small smile, "This was just a test, not a training field, and you are already doing so well. I know you will get better, son, but it is of the utmost importance that you have patience. These are not the wooden swords we have used our whole lives; these blades can cut through flesh and bone with just one careless swing. I have told you this before."_  
 _Dirhael nodded and bowed his head. "Yes, Father."_  
 _"Good lad." Talion paused, and then went to place a hand on his son's shoulder. "And...I need you to know that I am proud of you, Dirhael. No matter_ what _you choose to be." Dirhael smiled a little, but his father continued solemnly, "Son...I need to know, and I need you to tell me honestly."_  
 _"Father?"_  
 _"Is this truly what you want?" asked Talion, softly. He gestured around him. "All of this. To become a soldier of the Black Gate. To swear an oath to guard it with your life until your oath is released...Is becoming a soldier truly what you want, or is it because you believe it's what I want for you?"_  
 _Dirhael looked surprised. "I...I do," he stammered, sounding insistent. "I do want it. It's what I have always wanted."_  
 _"It is what you have always_ known _," replied Talion, firmly. He sighed. "You were born here, you know. Both you and your sister, because your mother and I were sent here for...for what I did."_  
 _Dirhael nodded. He had already learned of this a while ago, along with Elanor, who had been only a small child back then._  
 _"Your mother and I had little choice but to be here, and even now our choices have limits. But Dirhael…I never want you to feel imprisoned. You are free to choose whatever you want to be. You have a long life ahead of you, and I don't want you to waste it for the sake of someone else's wishes. Not even for your grandfather. Not even for mine. I want you to be sure, son. I want you to be happy."_  
 _"I..." Dirhael avoided his gaze, looking unsure._  
 _Talion kept observing his son. Dirhael was nearly as tall as his father, already broad in the shoulders, dressed in a green long-sleeved tunic padded with leather, furred leather boots, and fingerless gloves that had once been Talion's. He had brown hair in the lighter shade his mother's had been when she was younger, but was tousled and shoulder-lengthened like his father's. His young face held the first signs of a stubble, making him truly look like an adult (bearing a close resemblance to his father), except for the shine in his hazel eyes that revealed the lack of life experiences that would yet unveil in his future. In shorter terms, it was innocence, but not as close to the look of what his daughter still had._  
 _But when Talion saw the rage appear in Dirhael's expression, it was not the first time that the Ranger Captain felt that flicker of worry and doubt that has haunted him since the day Dirhael was born. It was the same rage that Talion had recognized in his own many times before, though not quite as deadly. Remembering many years ago of what he and his wife discussed about their little boy, Talion wanting him to train as a warrior and Ioreth wanting him to choose a peaceful future, it seemed so long ago that Talion was starting to wonder if he ever wanted this position for his son. He knew that Dirhael would have to grow up eventually, but now that it was happening, Talion suddenly wished it wasn't._  
 _More than anything, though, he wanted to make sure Dirhael...that both of his children...knew what they wanted and would be happy with it in the end. He wanted them to have good lives. He wanted them to be free._  
 _He squeezed his son's shoulder. "Whatever you choose to be, I will support," he said again. "You are becoming a man now, Dirhael. The choice will be yours, and I would have it be one that is a part of who you are. You have no need to prove yourself."_  
 _"Thank you, Father," said Dirhael, softly. Then the lad took a deep breath and looked his father fully in the eye with a boldness that bested his age. "But I do want this. I want to guard and protect. I want to learn how to fight like you, and I want to gain a similar position as yours. Maybe there had been a time when I was doing it because I thought I was expected to...but now I know that I want this. Truly."_  
 _Talion nodded. He never had the heart to reveal to Dirhael about the talks between him and Ioreth. He already knew of Dirhael's protective nature, mostly around his little sister, Elanor. Though the siblings had different perspectives when it came to making decisions and how they viewed the unknown world outside the Black Gate, they had similar natures that ran in their Dunedain blood: to guard and protect. His children truly were a blessing from the Valar. Even when they could get out of control, sometimes._  
 _Talion forced a small smile and then patted Dirhael's neck. "Training starts in the morning, then," he said. "Go find Elanor. I'm sure her boredom has driven her to mischief by now. She'll need her brother."_  
 _Dirhael nodded and smiled, looking genuinely happy at the mention of his baby sister. "Thank you, Father."_  
 _When his son turned to leave, Talion added, "Sheathe you sword first."_  
 _Dirhael chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Father, I know."_  
 _His long sword shined blue in the sunlight before it sheathed itself back into the holster with a loud ring. Talion watched fondly as his son walked away, but was left with a heavy heart._  
 _He only hoped he had done the right thing...but as usual, if Dirhael did join the guards of the Black Gate, Talion would look after him. His son was becoming more like his father every day, in ways that even Talion himself recognized...a fact that sometimes worried the Ranger Captain. He would protect the boy with his life, just as his son vowed to protect his little sister with his life._  
 _Talion rarely prayed...but he did now, for Dirhael and Elanor._ Keep them safe.

Talion stared down at the broken sword in his hands, the only remaining object of his son he had left. It had only been a year ago when he had started Dirhael's training, the day when his son admitted his desire to become a Ranger of the Black Gate. Talion had sworn that day that he would do everything in his power to make sure Dirhael would have the long life he deserved...and he had failed. He wished he were the one who died instead.  
But….did he already? The question remained.  
"Am I dead?" His voice trembled, his grief and fear still raw.  
He never expected an answer, from anything or anyone, but it came with the deep voice echoing quietly from a brisk wind that swept over the void, shimmering with ghostly shadows that flickered between life and death. The sweep of light passed through the shadows, making Talion jump to his feet, holding Dirhael's broken sword at ready, his heart pounding wildly.  
He felt the newcomer…..but could not see him.  
The voice echoed briefly, so quickly it barely escaped Talion's knowledge,

  _"You are banished from death."_

  
**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that I would split the introduction of the story into parts. There wasn't much of Elanor in this chapter, nor will there be in the next, but she will come up soon. There is going to be a lot of flashbacks in this story. There may be past and present scenes flickering back and forth in each chapter, regarding important characters. Just planning.  
> This was mostly Talion and Dirhael's chapter. I decided to add a bit more to this plot than what happened in the game, like Talion's talk with his son as well as his grieving. Just emotional stuff. Hope you liked it!  
> Part II is for Talion and Ioreth. Love those two:) Review, please!


	3. Awakening (Pt.2)

_"Am I dead?" His voice trembled, his grief and fear still raw._  
_He never expected an answer, from anything or anyone, but it came with the deep voice echoing quietly from a brisk wind that swept over the void, shimmering with ghostly shadows that flickered between life and death. The sweep of light passed through the shadows, making Talion jump to his feet, holding Dirhael's broken sword at ready, his heart pounding wildly._  
_He felt the newcomer…..but could not see him._  
_The voice echoed briefly, so quickly it barely escaped Talion's knowledge,_

"You are banished from death."

  
Talion shivered. In the blink of an eye, he had seen the light, heard the murmur of male voice...and then it was gone. The air had grown colder than before, tickling his skin like drops of icy water. Had it been his imagination? If it had, then he could not help but feel prying eyes observing his demeanor like a concealed predator circling its prey.  
Then he saw her.  
Sheathing his son's broken sword, Acharn, Talion slowly walked, his body numb with shock. The internal wound festering in his soul from the loss of his son grew into a wider, gaping chasm, searing with edges with licks of hellish flames as he slowly knelt next to the body of his wife.  
His love. His life.  
Her dark braided hair had fallen loose, spreading out like a wide, wet curtain across the stone, drenched in her own blood, having bled out from the gaping wound across her throat. Her brown eyes were still wide open from staring up at the sky, dull and empty of the beautiful glow that he fell in love with, her mouth parted from giving her final sigh of life. Fear remained in her features, but they also contained submission.  
His shaking fingers brushed her cold, pale cheek, but no breath drew from her lips. He picked up her hand in both of his, small and soft in his own larger and more calloused pair. He traced her palm delicately, trying to will her to wake with his soothing touch, but he could feel her warmth no longer.  
"Ioreth," he whispered brokenly to the body of his wife. The gentle woman he fell in love with the moment he first laid eyes on her, from the moment he had first heard the sound of her voice. The mother of his children and the living source of all that made him what he was. Another heavy tear trailed down his face unheeded. In shaky whispers that twisted his heart like the edge of a dagger, he kept repeating her name, hoping she would wake up with all the love he had for her. "Ioreth...Ioreth...Ioreth..." he whispered, his voice small and begging her to come back to him.  
When he grew silent, he shut his eyes and more tears flooded. He lifted her hand to his lips and let him linger there as his body shook with silent sobs. He could not remember the last time he had ever cried this hard. It had been few...but this was pure anguish.  
The internal wound grew wider at the base of his chest. As though feeling it physically, he felt himself lean over once more across the body of another member of his family, but with the one he had pledged his heart and soul to. Without her...without the children she bore him...he was nothing. Nothing.  
Talion closed her eyes as he had done with Dirhael and brushed the loose strand of hair from her lovely face. Even in death, she looked so beautiful. His breath shuddering in heavy gasps, Talion leaned over and kissed her lips, still soft but cold as ice. His own hair strands brushed her face as he kissed her, but she still didn't wake.  
Breaking from the kiss, Talion wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into his lap, cradling her head against his shoulder. She was so light, so small and fragile. Kissing the top her hair, he rocked her back and forth like a child, letting himself be lost in his tears. After a while, when his moans gradually faded, he then started to hum his wife's favorite song, a tune that had always brought peace to both him and his children.  
Even now, he could hear her singing. Oh, how her sweet voice could sooth his soul...

 _Talion smiled as he heard the familiar humming tune coming from the fair lady behind him. Turning slightly around, he watched as his lovely wife, Ioreth, passed him by while carrying a basket full of newly collected crops to the fortress across the Morannon. She wore a long-sleeved blue dress with a yellow-collared cowl draped over her shoulders, her leather-skinned boots treading lightly over the stone as she hummed more sweetly than the song of birds, soft and warm as honey that lifted the heart of every man, woman, and child as lightly as a cloud._  
_Though not nearly as much as did Talion, the hardened and respected Ranger Captain of the Black Gate who grows soft and enchanted by the mere presence of this beautiful woman he married._  
_Talion watched for a moment as she walked away in her flowing blue dress, entranced by her beauty and her voice, a youthful smile growing on his face. Memories of their first meeting resurfaced, for such a special event had happened in such a similar way. A lowly Ithilien Ranger just passing through the markets of the White City, when one day he heard the loveliest voice that his ears ever beheld, therefore tracing to a young Dunedain maiden of noble birth, who also happened to be the most beautiful sight he had ever seen...Even now, it seemed impossible that he was now her husband, that she loved him._  
_In his hands, delivered from an old friend from back in Minas Tirith, was a small arrangement of white and yellow flowers that shimmered like pearl and gold in the afternoon sunlight, illuminating like the way the stars do. They were still fresh and sweet-smelling, delivered by one of the Rangers of the Gate who was sent on a long-distant errand to the White City._  
_Niphredil and Elanor, both flowers born of magic and harvested by the Elves. Ioreth's two favorite flowers._  
_Planning on surprising her with this simple, but thoughtful gift, Talion headed toward the fortress his wife was just entering, creeping silently near the entrance with his blue cloak flowing in the wind and his feet as silent as an Elf's. He paused near the barrels as Ioreth began singing softly to herself as she arranged the crops on one of the long tables:_

 _"On winds and waters may you cross_  
_See mountains white and blue_  
_But on your road, let's not forget_  
_The love I have for you_  
_Dance on beaches in Anfalas_  
_Sleep in moonlit fields of view_  
_May you cross another golden age_  
_With preciousness free-flowing_  
_With Halfling, Elves, and Dwarves engage_  
_Their wisdom on you bestowing..." (Hums)_

 _When Talion breezed behind her, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest, and kissed her neck, while holding the small set of flowers before her eyes. She melted into his warm presence with a small giggle and Talion chuckled lovingly._  
_"Happy Anniversary, my love," he whispered in her ear, before kissing it._  
_"Talion," Ioreth smiled, as she took the flowers and held them to her nose, breathing in deeply with a look of delight in her brown eyes. She stroked their petals delicately. "These are beautiful. Elanor flowers? These are Elvish...Where did you find them?"_  
_Talion stepped back and shrugged lightly. "I still have a few friends left in Gondor," he said. "There happened to be Elves visiting Gondor at this time, bringing flowers from Lothlorien. I believe it was for a wedding."_  
_Ioreth then turned to him, her delight suddenly becoming a tad more serious. "Did you talk to my father?" she asked._  
_Talion's smile faded at the mention of her father, the Commander of the Black Gate. Grimly recalling the last conversation he had with Hallas, he sighed and leaned against the table, not looking at her. "Yes, I did," he said tightly, "and nothing has changed. He's still very stubborn."_  
_"I say we go anyway," Ioreth said quietly, eagerness sparkling in her gaze. Talion did not doubt that she meant what she said; it was little wonder his son and daughter were troublemakers. They got most of it from their mother._  
_Talion shook his head solemnly. "Dirhael will not come willingly," he told her._  
_"But Elanor would," insisted Ioreth. She gestured around her with the flowers."There must be a better life than this."_  
_Talion gently took both her hands, squeezing them. "Not now..."_  
_"...but soon," she finished with him, their words lacing with reluctant patience. She shook her head and sighed sadly while holding the flowers to her nose once more, "I'm just so tired of hiding out here, Talion. It's been twenty years. You have served your time long enough. Dirhael and Elanor should be running in the fields of Rohan, or exploring the markets of Esgaroth. They should..."_  
_"...be free," he finished softly, causing his wife to meet his knowing gaze. Ioreth was a small woman, about a head shorter than him with a petite frame displaying a warm bosom and graceful arms. Her skin was a creamy pallor with her freckled cheeks tinged a tad golden from the sunlight, her lips red as strawberries, and her young but intelligent eyes were chocolate brown like her long, flowing hair, which was currently bound into a thickly loose braid that lay draped over her shoulder. Her face was heart-shaped and still young, untainted by any burden or sorrows they had in the past (that could be her Dunedain blood, or maybe it was just Ioreth, who had the strength and patience that her husband knew so well)._  
_Taking hold of her shoulders, he pulled her to his chest and enveloped her in his strong arms, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. "It's what I want for them, as well," he said softly. "Every day. Dirhael is old enough to make his own choices now, but Elanor…she's far too young. My greatest fear is that she will one day sneak out of the wall, like she has many times before...only this time she will never come back, whether by her choice or by force."_  
_Ioreth wrapped a hand around her husband's arm, feeling them both sway where they stood. "I cannot lie and say that it hasn't occurred to her," she whispered to the troubled father, "but trust me when I say that your daughter would never willingly leave you. She may have a mind of her own, but she would never leave without our blessing."_  
_"I do trust you...always," Talion breathed into her hair, "but how can you be sure?"_  
_"Because I know our daughter," said Ioreth, pulling back to meet his gaze, and wrapped her arms around his neck, "and so do you. You say she is like me because we look alike, but she is like you, as well. More than you realize. And that is a good thing, Talion," she added firmly, when the man looked away with uncertainty. "You are both brave and headstrong, honorable to a fault, and with a strong-willed heart that can best a hundred men." Talion laughed quietly, and Ioreth cupped his cheek, her hand warm and soft. "And like both of us, together, she is a free-spirit. Dirhael is, too, but he has grown and has entered the age when he can question the difference between duty and desire. Should we leave, he may not have to come, however much it will break our hearts...or maybe he will. The choice is his, but he will always have a place for us in his heart."_  
_As she finished speaking, Talion studied her face, lifting a hand and running his fingers over the loose strands of her braided hair; it intrigued him that it was always somewhat unkempt, as if this woman had been running through the wind as she had twenty years ago. He then traced her cheek, his blood burning with a lust and ferocious love that Ioreth always managed stir within him. It's been a little more than twenty years since they have met, and such as a feeling has never died._  
_He pressed his forehead against hers, their breath hot and tingling against each other, the flowers’ fragrance blossoming between them. "How is it that you always know what to say to me?" he murmured._  
_Ioreth smiled. "You can handle accepting a lifetime of serving your sentence and you never care what anyone says about it...but when it comes to our children, you fear of letting go. It is something we share, my love."_  
_"My home is wherever you are, Ioreth," he whispered. "Wherever my family is. I would trade my life and soul a thousand times over just so that I can keep holding you like this."_  
_"As would I," whispered Ioreth._  
_Talion tightened his hold on her. "I wish you wouldn't have to..."_  
_She shook her head. "It's too late. I am yours, my Talion. Forever."_  
_They kissed, her lips warm and soft against his own. Talion was lost in the heat of their passion. It didn't matter that people were watching, Talion was happy. It was one of the few times when he could have time just for them. For them, and no one else. And anyone who would dare interrupt this moment would have to risk meeting the end of his sword..._  
_"There is a private room in the upstairs, you know!"_  
_Save for one, he thought with a resigned smile._  
_Ioreth laughed against his lips and both turned to see their daughter walking toward them around the set of tables, a bow in her hand, a crooked smile on her face. Dressed in her usual trousers beneath a knee-length green dress, the child had clearly been in archery practice. It was one of the few things that her parents allowed her to do what pleasured her._  
_"Elanor, darling," greeted Ioreth, holding out a hand toward the girl. "Come here."_  
_Now curious, the girl placed the bow on the table next to the herbs and approached her mother and father. She was a small girl for her twelve years, petite with creamy freckled skin and long, wavy brown hair like her mother, but her eyes were a wide, deep blue-green like the sea. She was the only one in her family with blue eyes; Ioreth said she inherited them from her grandmother, Hallas' wife. Her face was heart-shaped with high-cheekbones like her mother, her chin becoming more narrow with the first signs of maturity, though they still had the soft traces of a child._  
_Already this preteen, even as a small child, was beautiful like her mother. The thought clenched at Talion's heart._  
_Elanor was only a few inches shorter than Ioreth when mother and daughter faced each other, innocent blue eyes questioning the wiser brown. Talion watched with amusement as Ioreth selected one of the star-shaped yellow flowers from her anniversary gift, brushed aside strands of Elanor's hair, and placed the flower of her namesake behind her hair._  
_"There, my precious flower," compliment Ioreth with a nod and kissed the youth's forehead. "My little sun-star. We could not have picked a more suitable name."_  
_Blushing, Elanor rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Happy Anniversary, Mother," she said. She glanced up at Talion and went over to hug him around the torso, who chuckled at his daughter's response. "You too, Father."_  
_Talion hugged her back, kissing the top of her head affectionately, before meeting Ioreth's loving eyes._ "I love you," _she mouthed, making his heart soar._  
_In that moment, for the rest of the day, he forgot his previous worries and could only think about how lucky he was to have a family like this, no matter where they were._  
_They were the reason that kept him breathing. They were his home._

Such a happy day seemed like a dream now, forever slipping from his grasp as he continued holding the body of his beloved Ioreth. His body kept shaking as he wept like a child for what seemed like an eternity. His face face pressed against hers as he continued to rock her back and forth, his chest literally feeling compressed by the weight of his grief crushing his ribs and blocking the air in his lungs.  
Recalling Ioreth's gentle words in his memory, he whispered, "I love you, too."

  
**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a chapter for Talion and Ioreth, but I decided to introduce Elanor in the of their anniversary. This took place not long after the first flashback, which was a little less than year ago in the present.  
> Up next is part 3 of intro, and this time, my OC will be there.


	4. Awakening (Pt.3)

(Elanor)

The first thing I remembered when waking up was my mother's song.  
She would sing it, almost to herself, whenever she did chores, but I especially remember her melodic tune when she gently ran the brush through my hair in long, fluid strokes before braiding it. Since my hair was long and fine like hers, she had my long braid sweep over my right shoulder while her tender fingers brushed the back of my neck in the way that lets me know that I am safe.  
The brush was my grandmother's, made of silver forged from the blacksmith shops of Minas Tirith. It was one of the few things my mother, Ioreth, had left of her mother, a moment that the two have shared together in Mother's youth. That moment had then been passed on to me. Not in the city, not in any manor, but in the fortress of a great wall. The Morranon Wall.  
The next thought that came in my sluggish mind was that the brush was lost. The braid Mother put in my hair tickled my cheek as I slowly regained consciousness. My face contorting as the throbbing set in next, first in my head...then in my body...my arm felt heavy as I lifted a hand to my head, groaning softly. My body ached, as if it had been recently pounded from both sides before meeting a very uncomfortable landing. More like a crash-landing, like the time when I fell off the midsection on the wall and broke my leg years ago.  
I wriggled my fingers and toes, shifting my limbs to test. Sore, but not broken. I was fortunate.  
There was a sweeping noise like shifting gravel. My eyes shot open in alarm. Shifting my vision, it was the first time I realized I lay sprawled halfway beneath a tipped-over wheelbarrow See the familiar edge of the handle, I then remembered where I hit my head and winced. Did my landing impact really flip the whole thing over?  
Remaining still, I listened for any sign of movements, holding my breath despite my pounding heart. Loose hair strands escaped my braid and stuck to my dirtied face; they could never stay in place.  
The air was still, the night sky above me starless and polluted with heavy smoke. The Black Gate loomed above me in hindsight like a rising tide, looking scarier than I ever imagined it on the outside. The Towers of the Teeth, Carchost and Narchost, looked like the spiked horns of a Balrog.  
I knew what was built on the inside. It was the place I called my home as well as my personal prison, but never a cage. It was my playground and my sanctuary, but something I knew my whole life and no longer found particularly interesting. It was beautiful and boring...but why do I now feel so haunted? Why does the gate now look like something I should be running far away from, like its barricades would unsheathe its set of teeth and eat me whole like some dark, evil beast of Cirirth Gorgor?  
Slowly sitting up and scooting out from beneath the barrow, wincing as my back protested and my head swam painfully from the spot where I hit, I groaned and pulled my sore legs up, wrapping my arms around them before placing my head between my knees. Taking deep, gulping breaths, I tried to force my nausea down. The smell in the air didn't help, weighing heavily with the odor of smoke, ash, and decay. And...blood?  
Uneasiness stirred as I slowly lifted my head with opened eyes, turning it slightly to my right...and doubled backward with a loud gasp, a squeak replacing a muted scream when my gaze fell upon the body of a ranger. A ranger from the Black Gate. Was he someone I knew? I couldn't know, because in place of any face or hair was a bloody stump, flesh bits still ripped at the sides from a messy kill. His head...gone! _Oh, Eru!_  
Hyperventilating, I scrambled backward until my back hit the barrow's wheel, barely containing a scream. My strength returned like a flood as my hand gripped the edge of the barrow's cart while shakily rising to my feet. My legs felt weak and wobbly like jelly. While standing, I got a better view of the field, the landscape running alongside the Morannon Wall, and immediately wished I didn't.  
There were bodies scattered everywhere. The bodies of rangers. Mutilated and butchered. I was the only living being standing among the dead.  
My hand flew to my mouth. I began to double over, tears of shock springing from my wide, horrified eyes. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't process it. Everyone was dead. Everyone I knew and grew up around was laying like bloody, broken dolls before me, scattered and left unmourned. Nobody was alive. Everybody was gone. _Everybody._  
Was my family among them? The thought made me sick. Literally sick.  
Bile began to rise from the pit of my stomach. Hand still covering my mouth and my need to gag strong, I finally tore my gaze away when scurrying blindly off to the side until my raised arm pressed heavily against the wall. Leaning against its stone-metal barriers, I collapsed on my knees and leaned over, vomiting all over the gravel.  
When there was nothing left to hurl, I wretched with heavy sobs, my arms wrapped around my torso and hot tears running down my cheeks as I kept gasping for air. The need to scream was strong, but for some reason, I couldn't. My stomach clenched with a stabbing pain, my grief and my terror strong and surreal, but perhaps it was denial overtook my mind. This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.  
I already remembered what happened before now. As I wept, reluctant memories flashed in my mind as well as the voices.  
They had attacked, late in the night, while I had been sleeping.

  
_I woke up with a start from a loud clap of thunder and flashes of lightning, accompanied with the distant sound of loud screams coming from outside my bedchamber. Outside of the fortress of Narchost. Throwing back my covers, I leapt out of my bed and ran to the window, barefoot in my night dress, my braid matted from the pillow._  
 _Through the glass window pane, it was still dark out, raining heavily. I couldn't see anything, not even the ground from bellow the Wall, but I could hear the screams echoing as clear as day, some of them sounding like the screeches and snarls of wild dogs. More like wild wargs than dogs._  
Orcs! _the first thought in my head screamed. Chills crawling through my bones, my heart sped up in alarm as I dashed to the open doorway leading to the hallway. I stopped at the edge, hands gripping the sides as I peered into the stone-tiled hallway, looking to my right...until there was a gurgling scream. My head whipping left, a choked gasp escaped me when seeing the body of a man crumple, impaled through the chest. Standing in his place appeared the mangled, armored form of an orc._  
 _When it looked up, lightning flashing from the outside to light up the inside, the orc snarled at me with rotten teeth and charged._  
 _Wide-eyed, I immediately withdrew and slammed the door, bolting the lock before feeling the body slam against the wood. After the door shook under the tremendous impact, the orc's growls sounding on the other side, I kept my weight against the door to lessen the force...until the tip of blackened pike cracked through the wood, causing me to scream in fright and retreat backward._  
_As the orc kept pounding against the door, screeching, "Where are ye, li'l bird? I'll have yer pretty li'l scalp!", I scrambled to the other side of the small room to my cabinet. Pulling open the drawer, my hands scrambled through feathers, papers, marbles-my fingers closed around the hilt of a dagger._  
 _It was a letter opener, really. A gift from my thirteenth birthday, Gondorian-made with the crest of the White Tree at the base of the hilt. Both a tool and a weapon...though not a large enough weapon, in my opinion._  
 _"I'll make do with yer hide!" the orc shouted from the doorway. Another blade protruded with a loud crack. "C'mere!"_  
 _"I would like to see you try!" I shouted, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. I was standing in position, in my nightgown, holding a blade only slightly bigger than my own hand. When the door kept shaking harder than ever, more blades pounded through the woods, the sounds of at least two or three more orcs on the other side, I screamed, "HELP!"_  
_Once those orcs broke down the door, I was dead. Where was everyone? How many orcs were there? Where was my family?_

* * *

 

(Talion)

 _On the Morannon in the heavy rainstorm, the air smelling thickly of water and blood, Talion clashed swords with a Uruk. "I'll have your guts!" the creature growled in his face. Blood boiling, Talion managed to push it back and gutted the Uruk with his sword, blood and bone breaking under his thrust, killing the monster instantly._  
 _"Dirhael!" he yelled, blinking in the heavy rain as the body of the orc fell._  
 _His son was on the other side of the Moranan, slashing swords with two other Uruks, easily dispatching them. He chopped off the head of one, shouting back, "I'm alright!", before thrusting his blade up through the head. Talion nodded. He taught him well._  
 _As many more orcs kept coming, Talion and Dirhael kept fighting at charging Uruks, the only rangers, captain and apprentice, now standing. "My blade shall rest in your throats, filth!" shouted Dirhael, as he chopped down another Uruk._  
 _"Dirhael," yelled Talion, feeling wiped from all the fighting, "remember your training!"_  
 _"Father, they charge faster than I can strike!"_  
 _"Stand fast, Dirhael!"_  
_"Their deaths are far from swift, Father!" Dirhael yelled back in frustration, as he pushed back another orc with his foot after stabbing it._  
 _"Remember, son, lunge deep and cut deeper!" As a demonstration, Talion's strokes on another beefy Uruk went in a semicircle, knocking the vermin off his feet, before stabbing the sword downward into its throat on the ground like impaling meat._  
 _Talion butchered another one, but when he turned, he saw his son get knocked down by a larger Uruk. His world turned red._  
 _"Dirhael!" he screamed, and charged forward with an enraged roar. Hearing his cry, the Uruk turned around, away from the lad, as Talion jumped in sight and clashed swords with it, but the enemy snuck out another blade and stabbed forward. Earning a scratch near his ribs, Talion grunted, but then Dirhael stabbed the foe deeply into its side from the ground. Just for good measure, Talion slashed the Uruk from the groin up across its face, completely slicing it in half and spilling black blood everywhere on the watery ground._  
 _When it fell, Talion winced and clutched his wounded side, while Dirhael jumped to his feet in panic, screaming,"Father!"_  
 _"Are you alright, son?" gasped Talion, reaching for him._  
 _"I'm fine. You're hurt!"_  
 _"It's nothing. It's just a scratch." Shaking off the pain, Talion straightened up and gripped his sword, gesturing to Dirhael. "Come on. Stay close to me."_  
 _Back to back, father and son battled other oncoming Uruks. When all the vermin were down, they ran to the door of Narchost, out of breath, their swords still readied. Bodies lay everywhere, of humans and orcs alike. They were the last two standing._  
 _"These orcs are much stronger than any we've ever seen," panted Dirhael. His long hair was completely drenched, limp around his young pale face, eyes weary with fear and anger, but completely alert._  
 _Talion shook his head. "They're not orcs, they're Uruks. They're far worse and there's too many." Talion looked at him, making a decision, and carefully opened the door a crack into the monolith. "Go find your mother and sister." Dirhael opened his mouth to protest, but Talion repeated firmly, "Go find your mother and sister. Find them, and keep them safe."_  
 _"But what about you?" asked Dirhael, looking concerned. "You just said there's too many..."_  
 _"Don't worry about me. You focus on getting yourself, your mother, and sister out of here. I'll be right behind you." Talion gave him a small smile and reached out to caress his son's face tenderly, sending a silent message to him, before saying softly, "Go."_  
 _After hesitating, Dirhael set his jaw firm and nodded in understanding, eyes shining. Talion then pushed his son gently inside and closed the door quietly. Heart heavy, he leaned against the door and sighed heavily, feeling the rain soak through his hair and cloak. He thought of all the men that had fallen around him, their deaths brutal and bloody, and shut his eyes in pain._  
Please, _he prayed in his mind._ Please, keep them safe. I ask for nothing else. If I should fall, let them live. They are everything. Keep them safe.  
 _In his heart, he felt that it may be the last time he saw his son, already fighting bravely like a real warrior. Talion never thought he would be more proud of him. But he was._  
 _He heard more Uruks coming. Face hardening and eyes narrowing dangerously through the rain, he gritted his teeth and charged forward at the incoming monsters, ready to plunge his bade into more orc meat._

* * *

 

(Elanor)

_I was behind the side of my bed, sitting with my back to the wall, holding the knife to my chest in a tight grip. Tears blurred my eyes as my breathing heightened, hearing the cracks on the door grow louder._   
_"Come out, li'l mite! We won't bite...MUCH!" The orcs laughed at their rhyme and hooted as they came close to breaking down the door. A sob escaped me, but I braced myself. The room was small with two beds (one of them formerly my brother's, before he moved out to join the young Ranger training groups), a cabinet, a desk shelving some books, a wardrobe, and a small table with a mirror. The window framed in between the beds, its diamond-shaped glass drenched with rain like shedding tears. Unfortunately, there were also bars outside of that window. Courtesy from my grandfather, who had enough of my escapades._   
_I silently cursed him again, as I had the last time he ordered this restriction. It quite literally felt like I was in a cell, imprisoned for the need of getting out. The Black Gate was, after all, a sanctum for prisoners, not just a stronghold between Mordor and and everywhere else, or an iron doorway sealed through the mountain pass of Cirith Gorgor. Now, because of this stupid new rule, I was trapped and had nowhere to escape._   
_Suddenly, the orcs let out more snarls and crashing stopped, replaced by the clashing sounds of blades, mixed with the shrieks of those monsters. I curled up in a ball, tucking my head to my chest with the knife's hilt pressed to my head, trembling as I waited._   
_There were multiple thumps, grunts, and more shrieks...then silence. Lifting my head, I held my breath, listening, my heart pounding._   
_The knob started jerking stiffly, restarting my terror and tightening my grip on the knife, thinking it was another Uruk. Then Dirhael's voice called out, "El, it's me! Are you in there? Let me in!" He knocked on the door hard._   
_My mind dizzy with relief, I jumped unsteadily to my feet and went to the door, which was so battered with wooden cracks that it was a wonder it hadn't snapped in half yet. As soon as I unbolted the door, Dirhael burst through and I found myself crashing into his embrace._   
_"Rae!" I cried. He tightened his arms around me, his sword gripped one hand while his other dug into my hair. My face buried in his chest, where I can hear his heart pounding intensely as he tried to catch his breath from the fight. I couldn't stop shaking, more from terror than from the cold._   
_"It's alright, El, it's alright," he whispered as he hugged me. I found comfort in my big brother, being a good taller than me and much broader, but also with a soothing tone that helped keep my nightmares at bay. It did little good at this point, our garrison suddenly overcome with bloodthirsty orcs (my mind could hardly wrap around the idea), but it helped a little that I was no longer alone._   
_Dirahel then pulled back and took my shoulders, bending slightly to meet my eyes. He looked all soaked from the rain outside, his hair drenched, a bloody scratch on his forehead and his arms and chests covered in black stains of muck. His expression was serious but frantic; one year as an apprentice, and he had already grown a lot, I had noticed. "Elanor, we have to get out here now! There's too many Uruks and they have already killed most of the garrison!"_   
_"Uruks?"_   
_"Like orcs, only bigger. Worse in every way."_   
_"I know what they are, brother! Where is Mother and Father?" I demanded, my voice wavering. I was one hairbreadth away from breaking down in panic. Oh, how I envied Dirahel's self-control sometimes! Then again, he was the elder and I was scared to death, still not quite knowing what was going on or what was happening on the outside._   
_"Father and I were fighting on the bridge. He sent me to find you and Mother. So far, I've only found you."_   
_"You just left Father?!" I burst out, mixed with anger and panic._   
_"He gave me an order, Ellie!" snapped Dirhael, hand wrapped around the back of my neck. "He is also my Captain, and this is an order I am willing to obey if it will get us all out alive!" He pushed me toward the wardrobe, before moving to guard the door. "Get dressed! Hurry! We have to leave the Black Gate before they swarm the exits!"_   
_"What if they already did?" I said, while pulling out my trousers, green knee-length dress, and boots. I hastily pulled off my nightgown with Dirhael's back to me and started slipping them all on."My arrows are in the weaponry and Mother could be anywhere! We have to find her, Rae!" My tone became desperate and small._   
_"I know, I know!" Dirhael growled, running a hand through his soaked hair in frustration. "I am mostly thinking about this as I go. Just hurry up! I think I hear more coming!"_   
_"Oh, Arda!" I whimpered, hopping while slipping on my boots. One time I had said aloud that I wondered what it would be like to see an orc-or in this case, a Uruk-in a real battle. I did see one once…outside the Gate….but that was years ago._   
_Now, as Dirhael grabbed my hand and had readied Acharn for any oncoming enemies while we started running through the hallways of the tower, I desperately wished I had never asked._

* * *

 

(Talion)

 _In the main hall of Narchost, Ioreth was going to scream after she watched a Uruk fall dead in front of her from a stab wound, but it was Talion who appeared and covered her mouth. "Sh, sh, we must must hide now or we are both dead," he whispered in her ear. "Come on." They bent down low, allowing themselves to move with the shadows as the noises of Uruks kept erupting. When the noises dimmed slightly, Talion and Ioreth managed to reach the side of an overturned table, one of many, that blocked them from any escalating eyes._  
 _They let out their breath, Ioreth started breathing heavily against the table, her eyes wide with fear. Talion reached up and cupped her face, turning her gaze towards his. He looked her over for wounds, for the filthy Uruk had been about to attack her before Talion slaughtered it, but found on a scratch on her arm._  
 _"Ioreth?" he said quietly. "Ioreth...look at me. I'm right here, my love. Right here. We are going to get out of here."_  
 _Ioreth blinked, her gaze focusing on his, but they held no less sorrow. "My father?" she said hoarsely._  
 _Talion hesitated, but then he shook his head. Ioreth placed a hand over her mouth and let out a small sob, her shoulders shaking. He gently pulled her towards him and let her head rest on his shoulder, keeping his arms wrapped securely around her. She made no noise as he held her, but gave her a few moments to recollect herself. There was no time for grief; their focus had to be their survival. The Rangers' Garrison was no more. With the amount of people dead, the Black Gate was already lost._  
 _"We should have left when we had the chance," whispered Ioreth, her voice shaking with tears._  
 _"Even then, we couldn't have prevented your father's fate," said Talion, placing his forehead in her hair. "You know what his choice would have been. He was as impenetrable as the stone and iron wall he guarded. A true soldier of Gondor."_  
 _Ioreth sniffed and nodded in his shoulder, taking a deep breath. Then she stiffened and pulled back, looking at him with wide brown eyes."Talion," she whispered frantically. "Dirhael and Elanor...where are our children?"_  
_Talion paled. "Dirhael never found you?" he breathed. Though he knew Dirhael knew how to defend himself (he had taught that lad better than he remembered), the occurring thought of his son being injured or dead sent a stab of panic in his body. Elanor had been sent to bed a couple hours before the night invasion. Did the Uruks reach her room? Did they...He felt very sick at the possibility and could only hope that that his daughter had woken up in time to realize what was happening and attempt to protect herself. Because if not, he hoped that was the first place Dirahel went to after Talion sent him off to find the mother and daughter. His Elanor..._  
 _Ioreth shook her head fearfully."I was trapped in the kitchens. I barely made it out when...Oh, Talion, we have to find them-" She was cut off suddenly by the sound of Uruks entering the great fortress. Looking at Ioreth, Talion put a finger to his lips before inching slightly upward to peer over the table, holding his sword ready. They tossed over tables and kicked barrels. There were four or five of them, berating each other and flickering their yellow eyes in all directions._  
 _"Don't move. I will clear a path," he whispered to Ioreth, still glaring at the Uruks. "I'm outnumbered. Stealth is my only advantage."_  
 _"Be careful, my love."_  
 _Talion glanced at her, his expression softening at the sight of her. He then leaned forward and kissed her lips, cupping her face and brushing away her tears as he tasted her warmth and desperation, but also the strength and love that she returned. Letting their kiss last a few moments, they paused and leaned their foreheads against each other. Talion's eyes found hers, seeing into each other's very soul. "Always," he breathed. He gave her a peck on the nose, earning a slight smile from her, and that reassured him more. "Stay here."_  
_Talion twisted around in his crouch and started crawling along the sides of the tables, readying his sword as he neared the first orc._  
 _In less than ten minutes, Talion had already tore into the last Uruks' throat, one that had been digging into the body of another Ranger, buying a bloody silence. Letting the creature drop to the ground like trash, he thought about how many others surrounded the monolith. Perhaps a hundred, if not more...but if they were all careful and clever, he believed that they can-_  
 _He heard Ioreth scream. Turning around, his heart froze when he saw his wife trapped in the hands of a tall, armored Numenorean, his huge blade at her throat. "Put the sword down, Ranger!" he ordered. Ioreth gasped when the blade drew blood at her neck. "Now!"_  
 _Jaw clenching, Talion obeyed without question. When he dropped the sword, something large and hard hit him heavily from behind, causing searing pain between his shoulder as he fell to his knees. As the blows kept coming, kicking him over in the ribs and face repeatedly, Ioreth cried out for him, "Talion, no!"_  
 _Sprawled on the ground, bloodied from the blows, Talion coughed as he tried to catch his breath, struggling to prop himself up. His sides were on fire, including the wound near his hip that opened wider, and his vision was foggy. He managed to look up and get a brief glimpse at his attacker, finding it to be a tall, vicious humanoid in battle armor, armed with an iron mace. The foot collided into his wound, causing a few ribs to crack and Talion to choke on an agonized cry as he fell back down._  
 _He gritted his teeth and groaned. No matter how much this monster beat him, Talion will not scream. Not with Ioreth watching._  
Ioreth...  
 _With trembling arms and troubled breathing, he struggled to get back up. His eyes were fixed on Ioreth, whose arms were trapped in the giant's massive clutches, her face streaked with tears as her eyes watched him with horror. Face scrunched with anguish, his teeth stained with blood, he slowly started to drag himself towards her, his breathing ragged._  
 _Bemused by the Ranger's resistance, the monstrous being raised his mace for a killing, but Ioreth's tall, back-bladed captor blocked the weapon with a curled, double-edged sword. "The Black Hand wants him alive."_  
 _With one arm free, Ioreth started to reach out to her husband. "Talion..." she sobbed. The sound of her voice wrenched his heart, making him forget his physical wounds._  
 _"Ioreth," croaked Talion, reaching desperately for his wife with a trembling hand. Their fingers barely brushed when she was snatched away and Talion was kicked to the ground, the breath knocked out of him entirely. He was absolutely certain that some ribs were broken._  
 _"No! No, let me go! Talion!" screamed Ioreth, as she was tossed over to a huge Uruk and swung over the shoulder of the beast._  
 _The monstrous man swung his lance down...and stabbed Talion's hand. Talion screamed in agony as he watched the blood lace his palm from the punctured wound._  
 _"No!"_  
 _Like a trigger, Talion's head lifted instantly at the voice, which did not belong to Ioreth. Behind the leg of the giant armored humanoid, he spotted two figures, one taller than the other, standing at the large narrow passage to the fortress halls. When lightning flashed, the shadowy figures lit up, revealing Dirhael and Elanor, whose horror reflected his own as they stared at the scene in front of them. His heart went to his throat at the sight of them, especially Elanor, who shocked eyes filled with frightened tears._  
_"Grab the Ranger's spawn!" ordered the towering figure the other nearby Uruks, while Ioreth screamed, "NO! Leave them alone!"_  
 _His mind screamed with his wife. Fear for his children's lives reactivated some of his strength. He found their wide eyes shining in the darkness, hazel and blue. Helpless to do anything else to protect them, there was only one thing he could do…._  
 _"Dirhael, Elanor...go...RUN!" rasped Talion, bellowing the last word before collapsing back on the ground from exhausting pain, his hand burning like wildfire. In his half-conscious state, he watched Dirahel break out of his shock and grab Elanor's arm, before they whipped around and disappeared into the corridors, the Uruks trailing after them. Dirhael was armed...he will fight, protect his sister...they had to escape...they had to..._  
Go, my children, _thought Talion weakly, still looking where they were last seen, their beautiful but terrified eyes becoming a memory burned into his soul. Ioreth's two greatest gifts to him, in this life and the next._ Remember that we love you...  
 _He barely heard the low, menacing voice of his attacker growl, "He will live."_  
 _It was the last thing he heard before he was struck and knocked out._

* * *

 

(Elanor)

 _The sight before me had been one of my worst nightmares coming true: my parents held captive by two huge humanoid monsters in demonic armor. Worst than my worst nightmares, for it was very real and unimaginable._  
 _I felt my blood run cold when we had reached the main hall of the fortress, hoping to find the coast clear, or at least both our mother and father gathering there. Father was one of the Black Gate's best fighting Rangers; it would take more than a battle charge of oversized orcs to take him down. Then again, as Dirhael described to me as we scurried quietly through the passages, our bodies pressed against the wall in the attempts to use the shadows as our veil, practically all of the Rangers of the Morannon were slain. Wiped out in the past hour, the stormy night outside full of darkness and mist that seemed to gleam red from the blood of the fallen._  
 _There was no way of knowing who was still standing. This terrified the soul out of me, but I kept hold of my brother's hand tightly as slowly and quietly crept around the corners of Narchost's interior, familiar with the winding passages like the back of our hands._  
 _A Uruk or two came roaming through the dark halls, but Dirhael would draw his sword and lunge the blade deep into their throats. My stomach turned at the sight, but I didn't complain. Better them than us._  
 _"No one will hear them scream that way," he had told me, wiping the black blood off of the blade. I noted that to myself, the next time I found a blade large enough to be proper weapon, unlike the pathetic little letter opener I still clutched near my hip, I would take his advice and give it go. I never killed before, not even for hunting with my bow and arrows, though it was obvious that that would soon all change when I didn't have choice. Speaking of my bow and arrows, which were still stacked in the room for weaponry, I doubted that there was chance that I could run over and fetched them without getting pounced by a Uruk first. If only my parents would have let me keep them in my room..._  
 _As Dirhael and I had run down the winding stairs of the monolith, breathless with fear and the restraint to keep ourselves from yelling for Mother, Father, Grandfather, anyone...we reached the bottom, about to dart straight into the great center hall...only to freeze when lightning flashed through the high windows and revealed that the room wasn't empty._  
 _I heard my father's agonized scream and the roots of my hair rose in horror._  
 _There was barely any time to get a proper look at these two deformed monsters standing in the center of the wreckage, but the taller gray one, who had a lipless mouth etched into a permanent growl, metal armor, and several long blades sticking into his back, tossed my mother over to a huge, bulky Uruk while the other humanoid with heavier bronze armor and a face pale as chalk had my father sprawled at his feet, soaked, bloodied and beaten. To my horror, the attacker's spear impaled right through father's hand before yanking back out, all stained red with blood._  
 _"No!" I cried out impulsively, my voice echoing in the tower like a wraith._  
 _Instantly, they all looked up, both of the monsters and my parents, while Dirhael and I stared back with wide eyes and gaping mouths, our faces pale as the snow of winter's frost._  
 _Father lifted his head after my cry echoed and met my gaze. Wet black hair drooped limply around his bleeding face, his body visibly shaking with the effort of propping on one arm. Blood puddled the ground where his wounded hand lay limp. The sight of my proud, invincible father lying bloodied and beaten close to death on the ground was so pitiful that my mind became very numb with shock and heartbreak. His hazel eyes were so full of anguish and terror that my own eyes filled with tears, though I still couldn't speak or move._  
 _It was a sight I had never witnessed, and had hoped I never would. Not in a million lifetimes._  
Papa...  
 _"Grab the Ranger's spawn!" roared the taller, back-bladed monster._  
 _"No! Leave them alone!" screamed Mother, struggling and beating her fists helpless on the Uruk while swung over his shoulder. From the shadows, shapes of Uruks came charging out with unsheathed weapons, barking like dogs owned my their master._  
 _Father struggled to keep himself propped, his breathing ragged. "Dirhael, Elanor..." he rasped, his mouth filled with red and agonized eyes fixed directly on me and my brother, "...go...RUN!" Then his strength gave away and he fell back down with a heavy groan._  
 _Dirahel was the first to react. Breaking free from his shock, he instantly grabbed my arm and whipped us both around in the next passage to the left. He pulled me so hard that my arm nearly yanked out of its socket, but my legs instantly started working as we both charged blindly through the runways of the Morannon structure, tailgated by a group of hungry Uruks._  
 _My mind was still too filled with the images of my mother and father. I wanted to cry and scream for them. The thought of those vermin touching my mother and beating up my father filled me up with rage and terror. If only I were taller and stronger like a man...maybe even more...I would crush those villains under my boot and scape their guts against the wall. They would have paid for their treachery in my wrath._  
 _But I wasn't. I was small, weak, and scared to death. Dirhael was my protector. Father was my protector, too, but look where he was now! I should protect myself! Why can't I, a mere girl raised in the Black Gate with barely the skill of a bow, the talent for sneaking, and the delight in exploration? Which one of those applied to the skills of a warrior? None!_  
 _When we made another sharp turn that lead to the other side of Narchost, hoping to reach the next exit of the Wall through a tunnel in the Ash Mountains, Dirhael and I halted with a gasp._  
_Barely concealed in the rain of the next crossing, a cloaked figure stood in our path. This was no Uruk, but another humanoid, though not quite as tall as the other two, nor as strong. In fact, he was as lithe as an elf with the appearance of a Ranger, but darker and full of malice._  
 _Golden eyes glowed from beneath the cowl, quiet and luring like the cunning of a serpent, staring at us almost with curiosity...a sickly, sadistic curiosity. His mouth slowly curled into a menacing smile. He lifted his hand and slowly beckoned at us._  
 _"Back! Back!" cried Dirhael, pushing me backward while his sword toward the demonic figure, before we ran back inside the fortress._  
 _"There is nowhere to run," the cloaked man soft voice called out, his voice echoing in our ears as we turned the corner of the passages and charged back through the tower._  
 _The Uruks came in our direction, about to attack, but Dirhael shoved me sideways before swinging his sword, clashing with the creatures' blows. I watched in horror and awe as my big brother took down both of those Uruks with a swing, thrust, stab, swing, thrust, stab...black blood sprinkling my face...when Dirahel swept his blade in a wide arc, it sliced cleanly through the Uruk's neck, its head flying off like a kickball. Almost instantly after the Uruks were dead, Dirhael was dirtied and panting for breath, his teeth bared and his face dirtied with orc blood, but it was the unfeeling gaze in his eyes that made me shiver._  
 _When Dirhael found me leaning against the wall, the light relit in his eyes and he was my brother again. "Come on!" He reached for me and pulled me after him._  
 _We kept running, hearing more footsteps charging in our direction as we ran up more stairs that lead further away from the exits, but we didn't have a choice. Eventually, we made another turn in another passage, found an open door, and made for it. While entering, we looked around and my stomach filled with dread at the small space in the room, the shelves containing bottles while sided with huge barrels._  
 _"We're in the wine cellar!" I exclaimed._  
_"Aye, no kidding!" retorted Dirhael, though he turned around at the sound of incoming orcs and instantly slammed the door, bolting the lock. The he ran to a nearby wine barrel and started heaving it. I went over to help him, knowing he was trying to further barricade the door. The barrel was very heavy, the contents inside sloshing around while we rolled it across the room and finally jammed it against the locked door._  
 _The cellar had no windows or doorways. It was basically one small, square-like room filled with shelves of wine and aged barrels of ale. It reeked of it, filling my lungs with its bad alcoholic scent. The only other opening in this chamber was the trap door in the corner, used for storing more supplies such as barrels, crates, and grain sacks._  
 _We repeated the process until there were four barrels piled against our only way out and the enemies' only way in. "How is this going to help us?" I panted, while he and I shoved in the last barrel with a grunt. "This will not hold them forever!"_  
 _"It will buy us some time," said Dirhael, wiping the sweat from his brow, flicking away his hair strands._  
 _"Time for what? There's no way out!"_  
 _"Is there?"_  
_Confused, I watched as he crossed the room and stopped near the trap door. Dirhael put aside his sword so that he could place both hands on the metal latch. With some effort, he yanked open the trap door with a loud rusty creak before regathering his weapon._  
 _At the same moment, the cellar's door started rattling from the hard impact of incoming intruders, which I leapt away from instantly. The sound of the Uruk's promising threats were heard from the other side, making my bones shake._  
 _"El, follow me!" said Dirhael, starting to climb the ladder. "Quickly!"_  
 _"There's still no way out down there, Rae!" I complained, though I obeyed and started climbing down after him. The room was pitch black and it smelled heavily of mixed agriculture and dirt. I then hopped off the last few steps and landed lightly on the hard floor. "They will know we're down here and come for us!"_  
 _"Not exactly," he said, pacing the dark room with observation. "Do you remember the channels built within the Wall to transport the Ranger troops' supplies at ground level?"_  
 _"Of course. I tried one before to sneak out a few times years ago, but I ended up slipping and breaking my leg from the speed and impact landing. You remember," I said, slowly starting to realize my brother's plan. Father placed a guard on each one ever since, and I started climbing up and down the Wall instead._  
 _"Well, you weren't the only one who thought of that idea." His mouth twitch with bleak amusement before crossing the chamber and shoved a crate out of the way. "When I was younger, this would be my escape route, when the wine cellar was unguarded and unlocked. Unfortunately, it's structured on the side of Mordor and the landing will be very uncomfortable, dangerous even, but it leads directly out of the Wall and onto the ground."_  
 _On the bottom wall of the chamber was a small square tunnel tilted into a steep downslope, the entrance blocked by a metal-barred door latch. I then remembered this channel, having seen sacks, flasks, and other packages flying out from the pothole in the fort from the outside._  
 _Right now, though, I couldn't help but think about how small-spaced it was. It brought up a wave of claustrophobia. Many times I wished this cursed Wall wasn't so damn heavily fortified, both inside and out. But clearly not as impenetrable as we thought. For a moment it made me wonder how the Uruks got in and took the garrison by surprise. It had to have taken something very powerful and very familiar with the Black Gate's defenses to have barged in._  
 _There was a crashing sound from above and a beastly shriek of displeasure. They were close to breaking through and we were trapped with only a tiny channel for a unlikely escape or a fight to the death like cornered prey._  
 _"It's the only way out," insisted Dirhael, reading the doubt and fear I felt in my expression._  
 _Heart pounding, I shook my head. "No, it's too small," I told him. There was absolutely no way Dirahel and I would fit in there together. Dirhael alone wouldn't even have a chance, being too big and wide in the shoulders. Clutching my little letter opener tighter, hearing the orcs above us, I attempted to replace my panic with defiance._  
_"We have to fight, brother. There's no other-Hey!" I yelped when Dirhael grabbed me and pulled me over until we both knelt next to the channel entrance._  
 _"You're not listening!" he snapped. He pulled open the caged door latch. After moving his hand around the corners of the pitch-black tunnel, he turned to face me urgently. He did not waver when he said, "Elanor, this may be your only chance of escape."_  
 _'Your chance,' not 'our.' The truth hit me with full force. I felt all the blood drain from my face, making it hard to breathe. He couldn't actually be implying...He can't be serious..._  
 _"No!" I gasped quietly, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. I felt sick._  
 _Dirhael tightened his mouth, finding it difficult to look me in the eye with the quiet fear and anguish that appeared in his hazel gaze. Our father's eyes, from back in the main hall. "The channel is small and narrow, but Ellie, you're a tiny girl. You should be able to slide right through. The impact from the landing will be unpredictable, but I think I recall a wagon of seed sacks placed beneath the exit of this one. It should save you from broken bones..."_  
 _"Stop! Stop!" I shouted, scooting away in horror. "I will_ not _leave you, Dirhael! Are you mad? I will not flee like a coward in the night while you, Father, and Mother-"_  
 _"Would you have their sacrifice be for nothing?!" he shouted back, both angry and desperate. "I can't get out, but you can! You have to!"_  
 _"I would rather fight!"_  
_"You_ cannot _fight!" he argued. "Not with that knife!"_  
 _"I can_ try! _" I held up my letter opener, my jaw trembling. "Even if I have to use my own nails, I will tear their filthy eyes out if I must!"_  
 _"Elanor, stop this!" He grabbed my wrist. "You're being a fool!"_  
 _I yanked my arm forcibly away. "I'm not the one playing a martyr!"_  
 _"No, you are the one talking about suicide! About diving into a fight we cannot win!"_  
 _"It is not suicide to choose fighting side by side with my family," I pleaded, barely feeling the tears running down my face. "Please, Rae! You are all I have now...but if Mother and Father are still alive, there may be a chance that we can save them!" I knew this was wishful thinking, but I could not accept that my parents were dead and clung to the hope that I could escape with my family by my side. I would not abandon them. "Please, brother..."_  
 _Dirahel stared up at me in his kneeling position, conflict battling across his features while I stood in front of him, trembling, and the noise above grew louder. I thought he was going to refuse, to argue, and prepared for it...but finally he closed his eyes and nodded. "Alright, El! Get into position, but leave most of the fighting to me, alright?"_  
 _His tone sounded soft and tight, making me feel uneasy, but I really believed he relented. Thankful that he understood, I nodded and then turned around to face the ladder, ready for the Uruks to break through the entrance from above and start dropping down-_  
Clunk!  
 _Something heavy and rock-hard rammed into the back of my skull, causing purple stars to burst in my eyes before going dark. My legs started to crumple, but the strong arms of my brother caught me before I fell over. Barely conscious, the stabbing pain in my skull overwhelmed my senses, a moan escaped my throat as I shifted weakly against my brother..._  
 _"Sh, sh, sh," Dirhael hushed, while placing his other arm under my legs and lifted me. As he carried me, my head fell limply against his shoulder. He then knelt down, lowering me upright in his lap, and wrapped his arms around me until warmth seeped in. His cheek placed on top of my head, he sounded all choked up with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ellie. I hate it...I hate doing this, but you didn't give me a choice."_  
 _The slightest stir of mixed feelings touch my nerve: shock, betrayal, and fear. "Dir..." I tried to speak, but my tongue was too numb from the fuzzy flare in my head that threatened to pull me into unconsciousness._ Why...why...he never hit me...not like this...like a coward, he always called it...but why would he... _"Rae..." I tried again._  
 _He kissed the top of my head before leaning lifting my face to meet his. Through my fuzzy vision, I saw heavy tears in his eyes. "It's unlikely we'll see each other again in this life, little sister," he said softly, "and I wish we didn't part like this...but please don't hate me after this."_  
 _He forced a trembling smile, hazel eyes shining in the darkness. He looked grown up. My strong, loving big brother, who was so close to being a Ranger. He stroked my braid and brushed the loose strands out of my face, cupping my cheek desperately."You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Elanor," his voice cracked. "You really are. I have enjoyed you immensely as my kind, funny, and adventurous little sister. I have never been more thankful for such a gift. Never lose sight of that, Ellie."_  
_"Rae..." A tear escaped my eye at I stared through heavy eyelids, my voice small and shaking now. My heart hurt far more than my head now, and I felt so helpless to do anything but slur. "Please..."_  
 _He wiped away my tears and leaned over to kiss my forehead, his stubble tickling my skin. After a long moment, he hugged me to him tightly, his body shaking. From his grief or his fear...maybe both. "Forgive me," he whispered in my ear. "I love you, little sister. So much. Na lu e-govaned vin." He kissed the side of my face, something wet hitting my cheek._  
 _A whimper escaped my numb mouth. Sindarin, like from our classes. It meant:_ Until next we meet.  
 _"No, Rae..." I moaned sluggishly, struggling feebly when he picked me again. I tried hitting him, but my head hurt so much that they didn't put much force. A crashing sound came from above, and Dirhael quickly lifted me feet first into the channel. I kept trying and failing to struggle when my booted feet dipped into the the dark shaft. The opening was just about wide enough for my hips to easily slip through. "Rae!" My voice was growing stronger with tearful panic._  
 _Dirhael just kept forcing my body through the channel, his breathing quickening raggedly the further I was lowered in. "Get as far from this place as you can! Go North, like you always wanted," he rasped, brokenly. His grip tightened on my arms as he held me over the slope. When I managed to lift my head, his face looked down at me for a long moment, shining eyes full of anguish and love as though he were drinking me in for the last time. His gaze that would haunt me until the end of my days. "I love you, Elanor!"_  
 _He then let go and pushed me downward at full speed, my hands still extended over my head as our fingers brushed, slipping away._  
"Dirhael!" _I screamed, my voice echoing in the tunnel as his face shrunk from view above, staring after me until darkness swallowed it._  
 _I don't remember how I landed, except how much it hurt before I blacked out._

* * *

 

(Talion)

 _In the heavy rain, where the mist was so thick that it was impossible to know where they were taken, Talion had awoken with the ground made of artificial stone. The Morannon? His head stabbed with pain from the knockout, but was very aware that he was half-dangling on his knees from the grip of the man who had beaten him unconscious. When Talion looked up, he practically doubled in horror when he found Ioreth being held to her knees in front of him by the huge Uruk commander, staring back at him with her expression full of despair. To his left, also kneeling in the clutches of the back-bladed Numenorean, was Dirhael, who was struggling to keep his face stoic but was failing when terror started breaking through at the sight of his father, a trail of blood running down the side of his face from where he was hit._  
 _There was no sign of Elanor._  
 _Talion was not sure whether he should be relieved or even more terrified. He didn't know whether his little girl was dead or still running about, alone and scared. He tried to meet Dirhael's gaze, but all he found there was a switch between anxiety and grief. Dirhael met his eyes and managed to gasp wretchedly, "I'm sorry, Father. I'm sorry...I couldn't..."_  
 _His heart plummeted. There was nothing reassuring in his son's expression and Talion wanted to break down. But he wouldn't. He had to stay strong for his son. For Ioreth. He managed to meet her gaze and tried to show it to her, tried to will his thoughts to her, that everything was going to be alright, even when it was false..._  
 _Out of the mist, a black figure walked before the circle, his gray face dead as though uninterested in the scene before him. The back-bladed monster who continued holding a struggling Dirhael said to the cowled Numenorean in a smooth voice, "You are so certain this will complete the ritual?"_  
 _"We should have gone after the girl! Without her, there is no guarantee!" growled Talion's captor, who yanked the injured Ranger's arm painfully. Talion gasped, but not from the pain. His daughter was still out there. He looked at Dirhael as if pleading for confirmation, but his son kept his head turned, giving nothing away._  
 _The hooded man only glanced over briefly, before walking over and seizing Dirhael's chin, who bared his teeth up at the creature. The black Numenorean tilted his head. "No...we only needed one," he whispered. "It is known."_  
 _"Take your hands off him!" snarled Talion, struggling against his captor's hold as his hatred burned for the man touching his son._  
 _What he received next was a blow to the side by the mace, causing Talion to cry out from the fire that doubled from his already broken ribs. Then another. And another. He faintly heard Ioreth and Dirhael crying out for him, pleading for this cruel act to stop. The hooded man just stepped away, looking bored as he paced around in the rain._  
 _Talion keeled over further as the armed humanoid continued beating him across the stomach with his mace. He was so battered that his breaths came out shallow and cut off, his body going into the shock with amount of wounds and beating he received._  
 _"Enough," said the hooded man in soft, menacing whisper that cut through the air like a sword._  
 _When it finally stopped, Talion hung limp, but was forced back up onto his knees. His wounds grounded into his body, tearing into his sides and weakening him dangerously. When Talion lifted his head, he saw Ioreth leaning over in sobs, her head bowed, while Dirhael just looked on after having screamed his heart out, silent tears running from his eyes, even when covered with rain drops. Talion had never seen him look so broken._  
 _The hooded man then walked back to the circle, unsheathing a long silver sword that gleamed dangerously in the rain. With a simple gesture of the blade, Talion watched in horror as the back-bladed Numenorean forced Dirhael forward on the ground, before pulling him back to extend his chest._  
No! _Talion struggled helplessly. Every fiber of his being screamed,_ No! Not him! Please, no! Not him! My son! My son! Kill me! Kill me instead! Just not him!  
 _Now the terror showed clear as day on Dirhael's face as he looked up at Talion. "Father..." His voice cracked in fear, sounding like a child. His captor smirked in amusement at their torture._  
 _Talion wanted to shout, to shriek, to tear apart that lipless smirk on his son's captor with his bare hands. He wanted to throw himself on top of his son and block him from the sword coming in his direction to seal his fate. But helpless to do either of these things, it was everything Talion could do to keep himself together as he kept his eyes on the face of his son, who never looked so much like the little boy he raised since the moment he was born._  
Not him! Not him! He's just a boy! Not my son! Please, no!  
 _"Dirahel, look at me," he said, his voice rough and cracked as he struggled to not break. He was there for Dirhael in his first moments, so he will be there for his last. When Dirhael kept his gaze on his father, Talion nodded encouragingly, even though his eyes filled with hot tears."I'm right here, son. I'm right here!"_  
 _Though still terrified, Dirhael's face calmed slightly as he took in his father's strength, their gaze never breaking away even as the blade neared. "I love you, Father," he said with a small voice, tearing right through Talion's heart deeper than the sharpest blade._  
 _What happened next would forever burn into Talion's memory and shatter something in his soul forever._  
 _"Ghururrnu skirkush agh azgushu," spoke the hooded black Numenorean. "Zant ya apakurizak. Gul-n anakhizak..."* The Ranger watched as the blade drew across the ground and tore deeply across his son's chest, the tearing sound mixing with Dirhael's gag, blood instantly spilling on the ground from the huge gap in his entire chest. Watching their son be gutted before their eyes, Ioreth let out a strangled scream that echoed through the skies, while Talion's strength finally shattered and the Ranger let out a broken cry that shook his already broken body. The back-bladed Numerorean then discarded Dirhael on the ground, the puddle of blood spreading rapidly into a pool beneath the lad's dying body._  
 _Sobbing wretchedly, Talion sank further onto his knees and felt his body shake violently as he leaned over his precious boy who was bleeding out before his eyes. He watched as his son's breathing began to slow, but Dirhael weakly moved his hand a few inches in the direction of his father, his eyes shifting sightlessly upward in the rain. There was so much blood..._  
 _Talion longed to hold that hand, but still trapped and helpless, he sobbed softly, "Dirhael...I'm here, son...Dirhael..." He could still hear Ioreth's animalistic screams for her baby boy in the background._  
 _Rain pattering his face like tears, Dirhael let out a slight wheeze at his father's voice and then breathed out his last word, "Ellie..." Then he went still, his eyes dulled and open. Feeling the loss of his child, Talion let out another long-lasting cry of pure anguish, for nothing could still the unending agony that tore through his mind, his sanity, his very soul, in that moment. He wanted it to end. He wanted to die. He wanted them to die._  
 _It was when his captor yanked him back upright that Dirhael's body left his sight and his eyes found Ioreth. Her face was twisted in pure agony, her eyes red with tears in the rain. She was staring at him with such broken grief that Talion wished he could hold her and beg for her forgiveness. For failing their son. For being helpless while watching their firstborn child be brutally murdered in cold-blood...for the unthinkable had happened and while not knowing the fate of their daughter, Talion knew Ioreth lost the will to live._  
 _As the monster who murdered his son started coming toward his wife, Talion shook his head in denial, his heart still twisted in his grief as the fear for losing his love bled out openly."Ioreth," he moaned, his voice still heavy with tears. He was pleading, with her, the monster, or the world, he did not know or care, but he knew that he was going to lose her, too. "Ioreth..."_  
 _Ioreth met his gaze, her beautiful face distorted with despair and defeat, but her tearful brown eyes reading her undying love for him. For him and their children. "We will be together, my love," she told him in her tears, full of promise. "Soon! Forever!"_  
We will see our son. _Talion knew it would be so. They both did. Together._  
 _The cowled monster then approached Ioreth and took her chin until she faced him, her sorrowful eyes showing the briefest of fear and hatred. Talion wanted to destroy this creature on the spot, never feeling so much hatred for such a thing as he did now. He watched as the hooded black Numorean repeated the his soft chanting,"Ghururrnu skirkush agh azgushu. Zant ya apakurizak. Gul-n anakhizak..." The blade was then drawn across his wife's exposed throat._  
 _Talion let out another strangled sob of agony as he watched his beloved wife be discarded on the ground, rolled onto her back as blood poured out of her slit throat. She stared up at the raining sky as she bled out….her hand shifting upwards as though reaching for Talion, hearing his cries….and finally went still._  
 _Talion then went limp, bowing over the ground as his heart gave out in utter defeat._  
 _He was done._  
 _His life was over._  
 _His wife and son were gone._  
 _His daughter was lost, most likely dead._  
 _Footsteps approached him next._  
 _He didn't even fight when his head was yanked upright, until he was facing his wife and son's murderer._  
 _Soon to be his murderer as well._  
 _But it didn't matter._  
 _Nothing did…except knowing he will see his family soon._  
 _He was already dead._  
 _Shattered. Lifeless._  
We will be together, my love...soon...forever...  
 _Though he did not see the hated monster before him in the darkness, Talion numbly lifted his chin to expose his throat as the blade lifted in his direction last._  
Just end it. Please….  
 _"Ghururrnu skirkush agh azgushu," whispered the hooded man in his Black Speech. "Zant ya apakurizak. Gul-n anakhizak..."_  
 _Talion was looking towards the blackened, stormy skies when he felt a searing pain slice across his extended throat, cutting off his air with gurgling sound, but that was it. He felt terrified for what was to come next, but his wife's last words to him echoed in his mind._  
 _He saw her face. Then his son's. Then his daughter's. All so beautiful, so perfect, and so cruelly taken away from him...but it will not be for long...no, nothing will ever keep him away from them...He felt his body weaken but he no longer felt afraid...all he longed for was the pain and emptiness to go away...for them to be safely in his arms again..._  
 _He will see them soon. Forever._  
I'm coming, my love, _he thought, feeling a hot tear escape his eye._  
 _The black Numenorean then turned to the skies and spread his arms as if in welcome. "Come back to me, Elf Lord," he called out softly._  
 _Talion's world just about darkened when he felt a wave of cold electrify a body._  
 _Reality fell away and became bright with a white and blue light that blazed brightly like the sun. In the center revealed the the shape of bright, white phantom standing before him._  
 _Luring him forward. Beckoning him. Becoming him._  
 _Then darkness._

Still holding Ioreth in his arms, Talion finally laid her down next to Dirhael, the two lying side by side with their eyes now closed as though asleep. He dared not look at the wounds when he slowly stood up. He would bury them soon. He will put them to rest.  
Then he will find his daughter. His little girl…He had to know what happened to her.  
Standing there, silently observing the phantom shadows swirling around him, his skin tingled as he sense that he was not alone. The air stirred slightly with the newcomer's presence, sending more chills in his bones. It was so dark that there was no telling where he was. It did not feel like the Black Gate. The strangeness of it all unsettled him.  
"What is this place?" whispered Talion, both to himself and the unseen newcomer.  
His suspicions proved true when he turned around and nearly jumped when see the darkness dissolve into a bright white light. The bright light shaped into that of a person. A ghostly person. An elf, bearing armor, a bow and arrows, a circlet, and a face etched with deep scars.  
Talion had heard of them in legends of Gondor, but had never believed them. Had never seen one for himself until now, though he never knew they glowed so brightly.  
A wraith.  
The elf wraith, still glowing brightly with a white light, moved his arm to point behind him. "See for yourself."  
Hesitantly, Talion slowly walked forward, passing the wraith while the shadows around him finally began to clear. What he saw before him was the Black Gate, the sky filled with floating ashes and ember, the sky swirling with a mixture of gray and red. Talion leaned against the pillar of the tower in sorrow at the wreckage before him. He saw broken machinery, scattered bodies, and nearby structures that stood like remains of the past surrounding the fields of Cirith Gorgor.  
"Mordor..." he breathed. He then turned around to face the wraith with dread.  
"Now do you believe me, Ranger?" said the elf wraith grimly.  
Heart pounding at full speed, Talion shook his head and walked swiftly across the tower, his breathing becoming anxious in his confusion. He stopped on the other side and stared at his hands. The wound in one of them was dried up; purple, like that of a corpse. "What has happened to me?" he said shakily.  
_Why am I feeling like this? Why am I not dead? I was killed! They slit my throat! How am I here?_  
The answer that came next nearly made him crumple. "You are banished from death," announced the wraith solemnly, causing Talion to stiffen. "Cast adrift between the worlds of light and dark. A curse binds us together within the walls of Arda."  
Talion whipped around to face the cold-toned wraith. Everything in him wanted to deny this dead stranger's words. To drive him away, to distrust him.  
But however suspicious he was of this mysterious elf, Talion could think of no other reason other than believing the elf's words. Did it have anything to do with the hooded Numenorean's ritual? A heavy flood of hatred for that murder blazed through Talion like venom. The truth of it was a cruel blow to him, a joke that continued to jab at his wounded heart and keep him further away from his family in the afterlife...but he had a feeling that this strange elf wraith was his only chance of fixing it. For he was not the only one trapped in the cruel life. They were bound together. He could feel it, from the cold rush of his blood seeping from the presence of this ghost.  
Talion's gaze hardened when he looked the wraith in the eye, trying not to stare at the ugly scars on his transparent face. "If what you say is true," he whispered slowly, "then how do we break this curse?"  
"We find the one who cast it upon us," answered the elf wraith darkly. "The Black Hand of Sauron."  
_The Black Hand._ Talion turned around and slowly walked back to the edge that lead to the view of the Black Gate, his heart filling with ice as his tattered cloak fluttering the wind. The Morannon looked darker than ever, filled with the presence of evil. No longer the Wall he remembered as the Rangers' outpost.  
The very thought of the hooded figure...the Black Hand of Sauron, he was called...continued to fuel a fire within Talion that he had never felt before. A fire that both burned him and filled him with coldest ice.  
The Black hand and his two monstrous friends. They murdered his family. They had already killed him the moment he watched his son be butchered. His wife's throat be slit. Right before his eyes. His fists clenched tightly as his side until they shook. If his flesh drew blood, it would.  
They did not even grant him the mercy of death, an escape from this world of agony! Because of them, he will never be at peace!  
_They took everything from me._  
Not only did he long, more than anything, to join his family in the afterlife...but while his pain was still all too real and very much alive, becoming his strength and rage...while he still walked on this earth for impossible reasons...

He wanted revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black Speech Translation:  
> *A sacrifice of blood and bone. A bridge for you to follow. You will emerge a shadow.


	5. Climbing Narchost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I’m past the three part chapters, time to move on to the real stuff. I personally thought that the young actress Raffey Cassidy was be the perfect profile for Elanor. I just think she’s beautiful and energetic at the same time, who always seems to play a part in a dark movie, so it’s perfect. And I think if she sang, it would sound pretty.

(Celebrimbor)

On the fortress, the elf wraith walked within the body of Talion, now a former Ranger captain of the Black Gate. They were bound by his vessel, body, mind, and soul. The elf was connected to the man physically and mentally. He could feel the tortured soul trapped within its dying host, which had still been clinging to life then the wraith was sucked into the Ranger's body, frozen from age and reanimated from the effect of mortal wounds. Banished from death.

As their souls became entwined, shocking and cold with a vertigo that took some time to calm, the wraith felt Talion's mind connect with his own. Exposed for him to touch and glimpse into if he pleased.

_So full of memories,_ he thought, _and yet here I am with none of my own._

At the center of the pavilion, after Talion looked over the view of Cirith Gorgor, in his hand (in elf wraith's hand) appeared a sharp-edged hammer of mithril silver.

The elf wraith frowned thoughtfully. "This looks familiar," he murmured.

Its craft was undoubtedly beautiful, Elvish-make, and obviously made for smithing. Yet the elf wraith's spirit filled with a fiercer cold that made his very essence tremble. For some reason, the nameless elf wraith was afraid of this tool and hated it with every part his existence.

_But why?_ Talion and the wraith's thoughts mingled together as one as they stared down as the smithing hammer. _Why does such beautiful craftsmanship become such a hated sight in our eyes?_

* * *

 

(Elanor)

_"Forgive me. I love you, little sister. So much. Na lu e-govaned vin."_

Forgive him?! He tricked me! He knocked me senseless and shoved me half-conscious down a chute! And to make things worse, he could be dead because I had been so foolish to believe him! With these thoughts, I choked on my sobs and my body shook as I wept in my hands, kneeling next to the turned over cart.

Many thoughts of what I should have done before haunted my mind. 

_I should have seen what he had been about to do! I shouldn't have turned my back on him! I should have known that he would have done anything to make sure I was safe..._

Even when it costed his life.

_"Get as far away from this place as you can! Go North, like you always wanted."_

Dirhael never wanted me to go North. He wouldn't have said that unless he knew that there was no hope left for him.

_But how can I?_  I thought in complete despair.  _Brother, how can you possibly think that would even try to leave without knowing what happened to you, Mother, and Father?!_

"Dirhael," I whimpered softly, hugging my chest I bowed my head, letting silent tears run down my cheeks. "Mama...Papa..." I remembered calling them that when I was smaller. I felt small now. Vulnerable. Weak and desperate. Alone and frightened.

Something that I could not afford on my own.

I could almost hear my grandfather's stern voice lecturing me now.

_"Enough! Tears will not help anyone, child. They expose weakness to others and to yourself. A waste of time. Better to armor your heart and face the outcome with unshaken dignity."_

The opposite of what my mother would say.

_"Cry your tears, my flower. Let out your burdens and sorrows, or else they will eat you up inside. Once they have left you, you will feel stronger and lighter in mind and body."_

Since neither of them were here, I began to wonder whose advice seemed wise to follow in this current situation.

It has been an hour since I came to and found the field of dead people laid out in front of the Black Gate, which remained sealed and motionless as ever, though darker and more wicked than ever in my lifetime.

I was taught that the Black Gate was one of the most guarded strongholds in all of Middle-Earth. It was nearly impossible to overcome and conquer because no one alive has seen it done. Not in thousands of years, at least.

And yet here it was, shrouded by darkness as thick as the plague. Here was the Morannon, once guarded by the Rangers of Gondor and Ithilien, now a cold and desolate monolith structure laid between a mountain pass in ruin. Empty and unguarded.

Or was it?

Once I had wept my tears and wiped them away, I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to clear as I studied my surroundings with a sickening churn in my stomach. Father always said a Ranger must have a clear mind and a sharp wit for the means of survival. I swallowed and took a deep breath, before opening my eyes and letting my resolve harden, fists clenched to my side, even as they shook. There was no reason to stray among a field of corpses and allow myself to be spotted by any remaining Uruk, especially when I was weaponless. Not until I had had my bow and arrows in hand could I go out and search for any survivors.

Despite all the death that lay before me, I became determined to find my family. There was no use in finding them if I continued to despair, and no use in despairing until I found their bodies. I hoped it wouldn't be so. Being alone frightened me like ice in my core.

Approaching the right side of the Wall, my foot found the first hold at the base of Narcost, one of the Towers of the Teeth, then my hands against its pillared crevices. My fingers dug in the iron and stone surface, slicked wet from the rain, finding a foothold in each lump denting the fortress. My limbs burned as I began to climb. Halfway up my back began to press against the crevice side with my boot soles against the other, my head and body still aching from the crash landing, but with a pained grunt I kept going.

This was one of the greatest strongholds in the world, but if one had the chance to look more closely, they would find that the Black Gate to be not as smooth and slippery as it was once made to be. When iron rusts from water and age, it also sticks to the sides like an unremovable stain, therefore granting unseen spots that can allow a better advantage in climbing.

I was so high that when I looked down, a stab of nervousness made me gulp. It was not that I was afraid of heights. I have done this many times before, to the point when it wasn't so hard to climb anymore, but I was not feeling so confident with a beaten body and slippery stone-iron. At this high up, one slip and the orcs need not kill me to finish the deed. Mother always warned me that one day I would fall and break my neck instead of my leg.

During my climb, I spotted a few narrow holes that were narrow and square-like, tilted a few degrees upward but still steep enough to camouflage with the iron grates. There were six of them in all, two stuctured on both sides of Carchost and Narchost. The channels of the Morrannon had always been there, originally used for discreetly dumping liquids and wastes (nobody wants to know what) when the Black Gate had been first guarded by orcs in the Second Age, but only the ones that guarded the Gate knew about them.

Now the Rangers of Gondor used these shafts to quickly deliver supplies to the venturing Rangers who explored the borders of Mordor, but mostly in the nearby area of Udun and not much farther than Cirth Ungol, which was across the mountains from Minas Morgul. They used this shaft, not only to save the effort of having to carry all heavy objects down the heavily forted Morannon, but for the safety of those who need not step foot in the land of Mordor.

Nobody worried about this shafts becoming an entry for unwanted intruders, being too small, narrow, steep, and slippery...unless one came from the inside. Apparently, before he forcibly pushed me down one of these shafts, Dirhael told me that he also used them as an escape route in his younger days, though I could never picture Dirhael being small and skinny in any way. To me, he was always bigger and stronger; I had to still be a toddler when he hit his growth spurt.

Then when I turned eight, ever since first discovering how the shafts work, I also used them. All it required a rope and a hook to avoid any collateral damage, before the rest of the way involved climbing down the wall. That part of the Wall had been tricky to climb down at first, but I was a quick learner. I was the daughter and granddaughter of a Ranger; climbing was a part of my life.

It wasn't long until I reached the bars of my window, which side-longed with another row of windows. With stained glass panes behind the bars, now shattered with a crown of jagged teeth-like shards, I peered through the inside and saw my bedroom turned over. Feathers, blankets, and my drawers were tossed apart.

"Orcs," I whispered in disgust.

As far I know, everything to orcs meant nothing to them but trash. So far, wasting the Black Gate had proven to that theory to be correct. But I didn't care about my bedroom; I cared about my family. I cared about finding a way back inside without being detected.

Clinging with both hands to the narrow ledge that structured like teeth around the midsection of the tower, my dress-shirt sweeping in the breeze, I pulled myself up until my feet stepped forward on the window ledge, hanging onto the bars for support...

_CLANG!_

I gasped loudly and loosened one hand when one of the bars unexpectedly came loose beneath its grip, but didn't break off as it pulled off the ledge from my weight. My heart pounding, both hands gripping tightly onto another with white knuckles, I realized that some of the bars were slightly bent out of shape, as though they had been pounded outward when the window was shattered.

Why an orc would try to destroy a set of bars escapes me, but it provided me an easier way in. Shifting, I reached over and pulled at the loose bar, putting some of my weight into its fibers until its base started to squeal a little. When that wasn't enough, I pulled harder. I realized I was small and light, but I couldn't use all of my weight on the iron without the risk of falling.

The bar started to bend a little, and with a satisfied grunt, I pulled harder until there was a wide enough gap for me to squeeze through. Swinging my legs, I stepped through my newfound narrow entrance, my bruised body brushing painfully against the hard iron, and finally jumped from the window sill into my room.

Now that I was back in my room, the furniture trashed and turned over in a heap, I went over to my tipped over wardrobe, where my scattered clothes lay all over the floor, no doubt pillaged by those orcs right after I ran out with Dirhael. In the pile, I brushed my ruined dresses and tunics aside, until my fingers clutched around the familiar fabric of my cloak and pulled it out from beneath the wooden dresser. It was a Ranger's cloak, mottled green, brown, and gray. Though I wasn't a Ranger, or even an apprentice like Dirhael, it was still good for hiding whenever I stepped out of the Black Gate...undetected. One of the Rangers, Baranor (whom I might've had a small crush on), gave it to me a few years ago.

Baranor was most likely dead, I thought sadly, while throwing on the cloak, feeling its comforting fabric drape over my shoulders and the cowl pillowing my braid. If he was, then the selfish part of me hoped I wouldn't find his body. But then again...

_Don't think about it,_ I scolded myself. _Focus! Don't grieve for something that is only your imagination._ It was the only thought that comforted me as I ran back and forth around the room, turning over things until finding my sack under my tattered bed.

_Alright, don't panic now! I'm going to need food and provisions. I'm probably going to need more than my bow and arrows. I would have to travel light._

As I bucked my belt around my tunic and shouldered my empty sack, I took one last look around my bedroom, knowing it may well be the last time I ever see it again. Sadness filled my heart when I thought about the times when Dirhael and I shared this room, playing and sleeping in separate beds, looking out the window to observe the Haunted Pass leading to the lands of Mordor.

Dirhael would talk about how he could hardly wait to explore the outposts between Mordor and Gondor as a soldier, while I would talk about wanting to explore far more than just these two realms and go far North or West to see the said-beauty of those lands. To see hobbits, elves, dwarves, and Men of the West...

It was an argument between us that had continued for years. Dirhael wanted to stay in the Black Gate, while I wanted to leave it. But we always claimed that we would miss each other, no matter what.

My eyes blinked away unshed tears as they observed the room. Biting my lip painfully, before whispering in a cracked voice, _"'Bye,"_ I then swiftly turned around and starting running through the hallways.

First, I would have to reach the kitchen down Narchost's steps, nearby the main hall where I saw my parents being attacked-the memory still shocked me with terror and hatred every time I thought about it-but I forced it at the back of my mind and gritted my teeth in determination I kept running through the halls. Thankfully, there was not an orc in sight, but I kept my eyes and ears alert nonetheless.

Dirhael and I knew these passages, including the entire Morannon, by heart. Born and raised here, we would be blind and still know every passage, doorway, and stairway that wound through the entire Morannan exterior. But it did not prevent us the fear of a Uruk popping from out a corner and Dirhael managing to slay it in the spot.

One wrong misstep, and I could easily be cornered by more orcs, just as Dirhael and I had been mere hours ago. The Morannon was just as enclosed on the inside as it was on the outside, making it into one big animal cage, which is why I had to tread with caution.

I gripped my letter-opener in my hand as I scurried a long way down the winding steps until I reached the large hallway. I heard the gurgling growls of orcs and froze. The main hall of Narchost was surrounded by them, pacing like animals and even feasting on a few bodies. My stomach churned with horror and disgust. My eyes darting, I pressed my body against the wall where the shadows were darkest and slid along its surface quietly, keeping my breath steady.

If I just went further down, I would easily reach the kitchen and just prayed that I wouldn't find any orcs roaming there. All I had to do was look for bread, cheese, an apple, and some water. Then go.

_It will be fine,_ I told myself. _Think like Father. Be stealthy like him. Master your fear. You can do this. Just be careful._

When I eventually reached the kitchen, which was in the lower passages of the fortress, I had to kneel by nearby barrels and turned over tables as more orcs passed by. Some lingered near the row of pots and pans, tossing asides scraps and ladles.

I knelt there, preparing my knife for to attack if I had to as I listened to the orcs growl insults at each other for a while, waiting in the shadows.

"Hands off the shiny medal! That's mine!"

"I found it first! Ye touch it, and I'll stick my blade in your gut!"

"Give it 'ere, scum!"

As they continued shoving each other, encircling the counter with jagged blades pointed at each other. One of them held something out of reach, while growling like an animal it was at the other. I waited in the dark corner behind the stove, barely hidden in view, but remained still while trying to anticipate the Uruks' moves. I could only hope they wouldn't see me, or else I would be forced to attack.

When the orcs attacked each other, I watched behind the corner of the stove with wide eyes at the barbaric scene, tempted to cover my ears at the loud shrieking that rang in my ears. I have been told that an orc's cries sound like that of a pack of wolves...but that was just an understatement. I have never really heard a pack of wolves, since no packs roam anywhere near the Black Gate anyway.

I nearly jumped when the one Uruk attacked the other that held the mysterious object. The impact clearly startled the possessor, and when the two went flying, but the Uruk's hand snapped open and the object was flung carelessly high into the air, flashing like a bright star in the darkness...and then it surprisingly landed with a light clatter at my feet.

When I saw it, even in the darkness, it seemed to glow. I quickly snatched it up, feeling its designed metal and its sharp edges against my palm, the string brushing around my fingers. Recognizing it instantly, my heart leapt in my throat.

_The Sunstar pendant._

My mother's necklace.

* * *

 

(Talion)

Still fueling with an unspeakable rage that ran like ice and fire in his veins, Talion felt a surge of power overflow him. Somehow, as the world became bright from the shadows, he saw a whole new world. He felt like two people, filled with a cold, electrifying power that charged his limbs and somehow made him stronger. Looking out from the pavilion, with a growl of malice, he spotted a small group of Uruks marching in the area behind a set of ruined walls.

Just the very sight of them made Talion seethe with hatred. He thought of how a Uruk had held his wife in its grasp, touching her and trapping while the Black Hand...

_They killed my people. They killed my family. Ioreth….Dirhael…._

Talion clenched his fists. He wanted their blood. He wanted to charge them now, hack them to pieces, and rip out their guts. But high up in the tower, by the time he climbed back down...

As if reading his thoughts, he could hear the elf wraith speak, ** _"Jump!"_**

_What?_ Talion thought, frowning at the sixty foot drop from the tower. If he jumped….he was not sure if it would kill him, but it would certainly shatter his body.

**_"Trust me,"_** was the response. _**"Just relax….and let me guide you."**_

Jaw clenching, Talion unsheathed Dirhael's broken sword, Acharn, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

_I do not fear death._

Then with cold power surging through him like a heavy shot of adrenaline, Talion felt himself leap from the edge of the pavilion. Flipping through the air with surprising grace that did not feel like his own, the wind rushed through his cloak as he dropped with high speed, his heavy heart leaping high from the plummet...but feeling the wraith's confidence, Talion felt it boost his own...and landed with a heavy thud on the ground before the Uruks, which seemed to vibrate from his landing.

Startled the Uruks jumped back as Talion crouched before them. When he lifted his head, his narrowed eyes glowed like blue fire, frosty as the deadly winter. He could feel the breathing essence of the elf wraith taking control of his body...and he let it. As long as the fear in these monsters eyes remained at the very sight, as long as Talion was able to slaughter these filth and clear the fields for his wife and son's burial, and to find Elanor, the elf wraith can do with his body whatever he pleased.

_They're mine,_ the little voice in his head hissed as he glared at the Uruks.

The lead Uruk seemed to recover first from the fright. "Ah, lookie here, boys! It's that lead Ranger from the gate! The one with the pup!"

They slowly walked toward him, unsheathing their lethal weapons.

"So, we missed you at Narchost, eh?" the Uruk growled. Then he smiled wickedly. "An easy mistake to fix!"

_**TBC** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, beware the wrath of Talion! 
> 
> So, nothing much happened in this chapter except a starting motion between three characters, but don’t worry, the next chapter will have some action. Sorry.  
> After having watched “Snow White and the Huntsman,” I feel a little more inspired for my OC character and her personality. She doesn’t want to kill anyone, not even a hated orc, but of course she will be forced to. I just wanted to reveal some of her skills in climbing and sneaking.  
> She will still have to get out of the Black Gate....again. But this time she’ll be armed.  
> Ioreth’s (now Elanor’s) Sunstar pendant was inspired by Arwen’s Evenstar pendant, only its the shape of a skinny starfish made of pure gold with a diamond in the center. It’s basically a golden Elanor flower pendant. It’s also a hair clip:) You’ll learn more about it soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This is really short, told by Galadriel (I think) or Lady Marwen, but I still have a lot of work to do for this as well as my other works. I hope this sparked your curiosity at least. This fanfic will be in Talion, Celebrimbor, and my OC's POV.


End file.
